


Grilled Cheese O'Clock

by madelegg



Series: To Kiss a Lover, to Kiss a Friend [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Bad Cooking, Cheese, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21776500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelegg/pseuds/madelegg
Summary: Dimitri's developed insomnia and keeps waking up at 3 in the morning.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: To Kiss a Lover, to Kiss a Friend [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567870
Comments: 10
Kudos: 122





	Grilled Cheese O'Clock

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this fic was Dimiclaude kissing lazily.

Dimitri woke up at 3 in the morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. Again. This was the third night this week that it happened. It had been going on for months. Years, really. It happened in phases, on and off. Sometimes he went a few weeks in a row without waking up and sometimes he couldn’t make it through a single night.

And it was always 3 AM. Almost frustratingly down to the minute. Some time between 3 AM and 3:30 he’d open his eyes—and he knew every time that was the end of it, but he still tried to roll over and go back to sleep—and check the clock. 3:02. 3:09. 3:16. He would close his eyes. Hours would pass and he’d open them to find that they’d been closed for ten minutes.

So he’d get up and drag his tired corpse to the kitchen, not really thinking about what he planned to do once he got there. That was just where his feet took him.

Once there, he opened the fridge and combed around in it. There wasn’t much he was interested in: condiments, mini pickles, eggs, last night’s leftovers (hawaiian pizza, the kind Claude liked). He opened the cheese drawer, rummaged a bit. The havarti was going to expire soon. He pulled it out. He could make a grilled cheese. Just havarti wasn’t good enough though, he needed more kick. Maybe cheddar. Add in some American too? He gave up and grabbed all of them, dumping the bags on the counter. 

With the fridge door wide open, shedding the tiniest bit of light into the kitchen, Dimitri got the bread and margarine, spread it thick on one side of each slice, and slapped them down on a pan, heat up to max. He put one slice of each cheese on each slice of bread and left the packages sitting open on the counter.

The bread turned black before all the cheese even came close to melting. The kitchen reeked. Dimitri barely noticed.

He used a fork to scrape one of the ashen black pieces of bread up off the pan to stack it on top of the other. The pile of cheese was almost as thick as the bread slices themselves, which didn’t seem to phase Dimitri in the slightest.

The sandwich hit the plate like a brick and Dimitri bothered to turn off the stovetop before he left the kitchen, but everything else remained strewn throughout. Wandering into the living room, he drifted to the window and stared out at their backyard, just barely lit by the cloud-covered moon. The crunch of his mouth around the black bread blasted through the silent room like a firecracker. Like everything, it just tasted like a wad of nothing.

He used to love grilled cheese when he was a kid, when his stepmother would make it for him and ruffle his hair. She’d let him eat it cross legged on the floor on Saturday mornings while he watched cartoons, the plate precariously balanced in his lap. The golden slices of white bread, the american cheese singles… Dimitri had never tasted anything so good.

He couldn’t remember what it tasted like now though. He couldn’t remember what his stepmother’s face looked like either, not quite. If he tried to picture her, like he did now, he’d get a shadow or a mishmash of features. Like a face in a dream, he knew it was her, but the face was not recognizable.

Dimitri sat down on the couch and set down his plate on the coffee table, the sandwich almost sliding off, only one bite taken out of it. He slouched back on the couch and stared at the old popcorn ceiling. They really needed to hire someone to get that scraped off and redone. And the living room walls needed a new paint job. And while he was at it, he wanted to redo the cabinets in the kitchen, put up a new backsplash. He’d promised Claude when they bought this house that he’d update it into something they could both be proud of, and at 3 AM, such a thing seemed almost possible.

But Dimitri was fading fast, eye closing without him realizing it. There was a rustling in the kitchen, a soft clanking; Dimitri didn’t stir. And then he felt something warm on his face.

Claude gently wiped a warm, damp washcloth across Dimitri’s greasy, crumb-crusted cheeks and lips, thinking perhaps his boyfriend was asleep, until Dimitri opened his eye.

“Hey,” Claude said gently, wiping his other cheek clean.

“Claude.”

“You wanna come back to bed?”

“Maybe.”

Dimitri’s head lolled to the side and he looked out the window again. The backyard had not changed. Claude’s hand rested gently on his wet cheek.

“Want me to stay here?”

“Sure.”

Claude put the cloth down and sat next to Dimitri, nuzzling in next to him, resting his head against his boyfriend’s upper arm. He pressed his lips to Dimitri’s bare shoulder once, twice, the little kiss noises filling the room. Then he settled, his lips resting on Dimitri’s skin, and closed his eyes.

“Sorry,” Dimitri mumbled. Whether he was apologizing for the kitchen or for getting up or for waking Claude up, Claude wasn’t sure. Claude wasn’t sure if Dimitri was actually sorry either; at 3 AM, it didn’t really matter. These things happened.

“I love you anyway,” Claude mumbled.


End file.
